July Haiku Winner + Peach and Pistachio Crumble

Peach and Pistachio Crumble

Peaches arrived at my farmers' market in June and they came as they always do, like a flood. One Saturday there are maybe a few crates of peaches, and the next tables overflow with stone fruits—nectarines, three kinds of plums, and juicy apricots. Many times I stand paralyzed, unable to decide what to fill my bags with for the week, but on a recent visit I had already decided on peaches destined to bake and bubble underneath a tender crumb of oats, pistachios, and sugar.

Peach and Pistachio Crumble

I've been drinking tea from August Uncommon Tea this season, and one of its summer releases is called Dark Iris, a rich oolong with notes of peach, lime, and pistachio. I first sipped it while interviewing these fine folks for Issue 6 of Life & Thyme. They are my favorite kind of people—passionate, welcoming, and creative. We had the best morning tasting tea and talking about boiling temperatures, flavors, and the modern tea revolution.

When I chose peaches as the theme for July's food haiku contest, I knew I wanted to create a recipe inspired by the flavors of this irresistible tea. This dessert made its way to a dinner party a couple of weeks back and I came home with nothing left but a few dried scraps of crumble around the rim of the baking dish, so I'd say it went over well.

Peach and Pistachio Crumble
Peach and Pistachio Crumble

And let's get to the contest, shall we? Congratulations are in order for Helen McLaughlin, whose powerful haiku cuts straight to the heart, and won over Eat This Poem voters!

July 2016 Food Haiku Winner

PEACH & PISTACHIO CRUMBLE

I use this crumble topping interchangeably with stone fruit this time of year. It goes wonderfully well alongside apricots, plums, or nectarines. 

Serves 6 to 8

For the peaches
4 pounds peaches
Juice of 1 lemon
1/2 cup granulated sugar

For the crumble
1 cup rolled oats
1 cup pistachios (divided and chopped)
1 cup whole-grain flour
2/3 cup brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Core and dice peaches into 1 to 2-inch pieces, then place them in a large bowl. Add the granulated sugar and lemon juice; stir to combine. Pour the filling into a large baking dish.

Pulse the oats, 1/2 cup of the pistachios, and flour in a high speed blender until finely ground; pour into a bowl. Add the sugar, salt, melted butter, and remaining 1/2 cup pistachios. Stir until moist clumps form. Scatter the topping over the plums and nudge it around with your fingers until well covered. Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, or until golden. Serve with ice cream or freshly whipped cream.

Peach and Pistachio Crumble
Peach and Pistachio Crumble

[Book Ends] My biggest cookbook fear

Book Ends is an occasional series where I share a bit about the cookbook writing process. For even more behind-the-scenes details, plus weekly inspiration for your writing life, subscribe to the newsletter.

I know things are hectic when an entire week goes by and I realize, on Friday afternoon, I never made a cup of tea. It has been one of those weeks, repeatedly, since the end of May, and for reasons almost entirely outside of my control. Such is life, right? 

It had been some time since I sent in my cookbook revisions, and in early June, a yellow padded envelope arrived from my publisher. My book was inside, copyedited. (Big sigh.) One version was printed with the tracked changes, the other without, and I’m currently in the process of reviewing all the notes and making a few final changes before sending it back. The polite letter stacked on top strongly warned this would be the last opportunity to make any significant modifications, for once the book enters the design stage, there’s no going back.

Some authors might be terrified of this kind of moment. A few years ago, I probably would have been, too. But this book has been such a long time coming, I can’t help but feel relief and enthusiasm, mostly.

The last time we talked about the book, I told you the most surprisingly thing about editing was the difficulty of getting back into the swing of things. I had emotionally detached myself after sending the manuscript in, and was basically asked to jump in all over again. A few of those feelings surfaced again for this round, but not as strongly. In fact, I’ve been really delighted by the whole process.

You see, this writing life is often a struggle. Even when we declare ourselves to be writers, when we are actually writing, and feel compelled by a story that needs telling, we still doubt. We still question ourselves. 

But then we have a moment. It might be an hour, or a day. The length of time doesn’t matter so much as the feeling of being entirely happy about our writing.

We need these moments to keep going.

One fear I had about book writing is that because the path to publication is quite long, I was concerned that by the time the book arrived in my hands, I wouldn’t love it as much. I would have moved on from the poems and recipes, or disliked my writing. All the self-doubt was swirling around and around.

But I don’t fear this anymore, because re-reading my copyedited manuscript has filled me with a lot of joy, and even some pride. I’ve worked on this book for almost four years. I’m really, really proud of it. I’ve put my best work inside. I’ve saved stories for these pages. I’ve made the recipes more times than I can count. I’ve created what I hope to be a sacred conversation between me and everyone who reads it. The poems are meaningful, and moving.

Writers, we need these good feelings. It is not selfish or indulgent to be proud of our work. It is a reminder of the goodness writing brings to our lives.

So even in the midst of my sideways spring, during a week I didn't drink one drop of tea, I sat down at my dining table and spread out the manuscript. I was reading only the poems, matching them to the original printing, to check for errors. I flipped three pages aside, then realized this was the type of task absolutely perfect for tea. And I finally turned my kettle on and let the water boil, and I passed the time, poetry swirling in my heart, finally glad about something.